


Tales from Far, Far Away

by Defira



Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of gift stories for various Tumblr users in celebration of Star Wars: Toon Appreciation Week </p><p>There will be more to come!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fierce Little Guardian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rprambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rprambles/gifts), [mygoodrabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mygoodrabbit), [zeowynda](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=zeowynda), [reanimatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reanimatrix/gifts).



> Fierce Little Guardian is written for rprambles on Tumblr, and features her Cathar Bounty Hunter T'rani Beto (also known as Kayda)

“Tell me of the Blood Hunt again, grandpapa,” Kayda said, climbing up the back of the chair and clinging to her grandfather’s neck. His ear twitched and she nipped at it, climbing higher until she was sitting on his shoulders, tiny little fangs gumming at the tip of his ear.

He chuckled, the gentle purr of his laughter soothing her. “Such hunger in you, kitten,” he said, reaching up absently to scratch behind her own ears. “So eager to learn of the old ways, are you?”

“I would slay a thousand nests in the hunt,” she declared, squirming and growling fiercely in the way that kittens are wont to do. Her grandfather chuckled again, and she grinned wildly, baring her teeth at his fingers. “I would be the greatest champion in all of Cathar.” 

“I do not doubt that you would, kitten.” His voice was amused, but loving, and she was pleased that he believed her. “But surely you would want to be remembered as more than just a herald of death?”

“I will be a great warrior and slay the enemies of Cathar,” Kayda said, tracing a little clawed finger over the scar on her grandfather’s head. The fur around the scar was brilliantly white, a stark contrast to the tawny pelt on the rest of his body. “I will fight Sith and Mandalorians and kiltiks and I will bring great honour to the clan and the Elders.”

“There are many ways to bring honour, kitten, and you need not walk a blood soaked path to find it. Death is not always honourable.”

“I will _make_ it honourable,” she said fiercely, watching his ear intently as it twitched.

“Would you die in the service of others, to help others weaker than you? Would you help those in need of protection?”

She paused, watching his ear and purring softly. “Great warriors do not die,” she said finally, defiantly.

“Oh but they do, kitten. And those who have done great and honourable things in life, those who have lived with kindness and love, they live on.”

Kayda batted at his ear. “That’s _silly_ , grandpapa, nobody lives once they’re _dead_.” 

He chuckled, and reached up to run his hand over her head, scratching behind her ears again. She preened at the attention. “The best and greatest of us live on in the hearts of others, kitten. We live on as guardians, as angels, to protect those we love and those who need our guidance most. If you do your best to live well, and to care for those around you, you will live on with them.”

She considered his words, her little face solemn with concentration. “So I would live past death?”

“In a way, yes.”

Decision made, she nodded sharply, the fierce little grin back on her face. “Then I will do that. I will be a guardian angel.”

His laughter always delighted her. “You are certainly my little angel, kitten.”

“Good. _Now_ will you tell me about the Blood Hunt?”


	2. Two Weapons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Weapons is written for reanimatrix on tumblr, and features her Sith Warrior Veena Arenai

To be a Sith was to be a weapon. An elegant weapon, one with a distinguished history and pedigree, but a weapon nonetheless. Her very presence evoked fear, and awe, and she could kill a man with that alone. 

But it was not the only way to kill a man- no matter how refined and exquisitely violent a weapon a Sith was, they did not have the monopoly on death. There were other ways to kill, less dignified ways. Messy and brutal and simplistic, nothing as sophisticated as what she was capable of. A man with a gun, especially a man with a passion for guns and violence, was a delightful tool to have at her disposal; sometimes a situation required a little savagery, a little blood and screaming and gore.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy watching such violence wrought by his hands.

She was a delicate instrument, attuned to the very song of the universe; he was a blunt tool, wielded without precision or grace. And despite herself, she found herself fascinated by him, by this Lieutenant with a passion for violence and a talent for mayhem. Pierce was not as simple a man as she had first assumed him to be.

Veena stalked casually closer to the soldier, delighting in the way his eyes followed the movement of her hips. “I confess to finding myself intrigued by you, Lieutenant,” she said smoothly. “It’s not often I meet a man so eager to pledge his services to a Sith.”

His grin always had something a little feral in it, something rough and violent, and it sent a shiver of desire along her spine. “What can I say? Always had a bit of a taste for danger.” His gaze went to her mouth as he spoke, and she smiled in return. 

She shrugged and deliberately turned away. “Perhaps I’m just a means to an end for you,” she said, somewhat dramatically. “I did get you off Taris, after all.”

“For which I am _immensely_ grateful, m’Lord,” he said, his voice a growl that made her want to squirm and sigh. “You’ve no idea the depths of my gratitude.”

Veena glanced coyly over her shoulder at him. “Trust me, Lieutenant, I have a rather active imagination. There are a great many things I can imagine involving your _gratitude_.”

With a straight face, he replied “My _gratitude_ is up for any challenge your imagination might throw at it, m’Lord.”

She couldn’t help it- she laughed. “I admire your lack of subtlety, Lieutenant,” she said, smiling as she turned back to him. “It’s a refreshing change of scenery.”

He returned her grin. “Always happy to assist.” 

He lacked her finesse, and he would never match her for sheer force of presence. He was blunt and violent, and she was exquisitely terrifying. He was the assault cannon to her lightsaber, as starkly opposite as two people could be.

And yet...

Two weapons, working together in perfect harmony, could wreak so much more havoc and fear than a single weapon working alone, yes?


	3. Teacher's Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teacher's Pet is written for zeowynda on tumblr, and features Zaan Sarn her Bounty Hunter

Ysaine could feel someone watching her, but that wasn’t anything particularly out of the ordinary. People seemed to want to stare when she entered a room, and she couldn’t really say that she blamed them. She was _damned_ good looking, after all, all six foot three of her. 

And the weensy little fact that she’d won the Great Hunt two years ago never hurt her infamy either; that people still recognised her when she walked through a space port on the way to the bar was a source of immensely smug glee for her.

So someone watching her while she enjoyed a drink at the cantina wasn’t really anything unusual. She eased back into the booth, boots propped up on the table as she nursed her beer and eyed the room carefully. She didn’t sense any hostility in her curious watcher, but that didn’t mean they weren’t up to no good. Plenty of people ogled her when she walked on by, but there were plenty of others who seemed to take her presence as a personal challenge- defeat the Champion of the Great Hunt and earn your place in history, some bullshit like that.

Couldn’t really say she blamed them- she’d done stupid stuff like that in her youth. Hell, she’d done stupid stuff like that last week. 

Her gaze came to rest finally on a zabrak kid sitting up at the bar, his armour scuffed and the grip on his blasters worn and well handled. First impressions counted, and his was a good one- she’d lost count of the number of uppity little shits who’d come after her in gleaming new armour and guns fresh off the assembly line. They hadn’t even had a chance to learn their limitations in the armour, to learn to move with it like it was a part of their skin, and they’d been clumsy and awkward in the bulky, unfamiliar weight. The guns had outpowered them, and their aim had been atrocious.

This kid, though, he had the look of someone who knew what the hell he was doing; more than that, he didn’t flinch or look away when she spotted him. He held her gaze across the bar, although his jaw tightened a little.

Ysaine grinned at him, and held her drink up as if to toast him. If he wanted to kill her, he was gutsy about it at least. She appreciated someone who respected her enough to want to shoot her in the face. 

Her gesture didn’t quite get the reaction she’d been expecting though; despite the dim lighting in the bar, and his dark skin, he quite noticeably blushed and glanced away, eyes wide. She guffawed, covering her mouth with her other hand, grinning as she watched him scowl and tense and turn back towards her.

He couldn’t have been more than about nineteen, but hell, she’d hit the road when she was only fifteen so she wasn’t one to talk. Setting her drink down on the table beside her boots, she waved him over. He looked torn by her attentions, but eventually he gritted his teeth and marched over towards her; she did her best not to laugh at the stiff way that he walked. 

He slid into the booth opposite her, slamming his drink down a little too hard; liquid sloshed up the sides and onto the table. “You’re Ysaine Pierce,” he said bluntly, almost blurting it out. “Champion of the Great Hunt.”

She grinned and tipped her head to him. “I am at that,” she said easily, arms stretched out over the backs of the booth. “And you are?”

“Zaan Sarn,” he said, his jaw working as if he was fighting not to just start babbling. “I’m entering the Hunt this year myself.”

“Congratulations,” she said, lifting her drink to him. “That’s a great honour- although I hope I’m not one of the challenges for potential entrants to prove themselves.”

His eyes widened with panic. “What? Oh, no no, of course not, I was just-” He swallowed, visibly stilled himself; the stern look on his face made her want to laugh, but she didn’t want to insult him. “I was hoping to get some advice from you.” 

He was cute, and despite the awkwardness, there was a hint of steel within him; you didn’t enter the Great Hunt if you didn’t have something ruthlessly ambitious hiding deep inside. The scuffs on the armour suggested he knew how to hold his own in a scrap, at the very least, and he had the guts to approach a Champion on his own initiative. “You gotta girlfriend, Zaan?” she asked instead, grinning when he blushed again.

“No, ma’am.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

She smiled. “Well then,” she said, “why don’t we go back to my ship and discuss this in private?”


	4. Statistically Speaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statistically Speaking is written for mygoodrabbit on tumblr, and features her Sith Warrior Constans

“And more than that, sir, I’ve calculated the most efficient trajectories to minimise our fuel consumption and travel time, in the most cost effective manner,” Quinn said, holding the datapad out towards him.

Constans stared down at it. “Uh... congratulations?” he said, glancing back up at the captain- the captain who so far seemed oblivious to what he felt were quite pointed flirtations. “Do um... is this a test? Do I have to check it for mistakes or something?”

Quinn physically reeled back in horror, quickly pulling the datapad back towards him as if he meant to clutch it protectively to his chest, before pulling himself under control and reluctantly holding it towards the Sith again. His jaw looked so tense that he probably could have cracked a stone between his teeth. “I assure you, my lord, there are no mistakes to be found,” Quinn said coolly. “I was merely offering it to you for the sake of transparency. All of my findings will of course be included in my weekly report.”

“Weekly report?”

The captain hesitated, a hint of confusion in his eyes; Cons was relieved to see it, because so far he had no bloody idea what the hell Quinn was on about. And he didn’t feel quite so dumb in comparison seeing Quinn, beautiful efficient Quinn, confused as well.

“Yes, my Lord,” he said carefully, his arm still extended with the datapad held out as an offering. “My time with the Imperial Navy instilled in me a fondness for statistics- numbers do not lie, my Lord, and through my understanding of them, I may better serve you.”

Constans was quite certain that Quinn was speaking a different language. “And... you need me to... check the numbers?” he asked, utterly baffled. Fuck it all, this wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind when he’d gleefully agreed for the captain to join his crew. Mostly he’d been hoping for a great deal of shirtlessness, possibly even some mutual nudity. 

Nobody had warned him that Sith had to know _math_.

Suddenly his parents’ insistence that he pay attention to his tutor made a lot more sense.

Quinn bristled again, but managed not to lunge backwards in dismay. The corner of his mouth moved in some weird sort of mimicry of a smile. “Of course not, my Lord- the report is simply for your own peace of mind. You are welcome to peruse it or ignore it, whatever you find most agreeable.”

Cons stared at him. “And if I don’t read them, nothing bad will happen? The ship won’t fall out of the sky or anything?”

“Of course not, my Lord,” Quinn repeated. “I will, however, make any necessary adjustments with your permission, to ensure the efficient performance of your ship and crew continues at acceptable levels.”

An idea sparked in him. “But how will I know what _acceptable levels_ are, captain?” he said, adopting an innocent tone. “Will you sit down with me and explain it all to me?”

“Of course, my Lord,” Quinn said instantly, no hesitation on his part.

Cons smiled. “Even if it’s really difficult for me to grasp and requires us to sit up together into the small hours of the morning?”

“Of course, my Lord. If that is what you desire.”

“Oh, that is absolutely what I desire, captain,” Cons said, commending himself on keeping a relatively straight face. “Spending time alone with you going over the reports would be a most- what word did you keep using? _Efficient_. It would be a most _efficient_ use of our time, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Then it shall be done, my Lord,” Quinn said, bowing his head. Either he hadn’t picked up on Cons’ double meaning yet again, or he was remarkably good at keeping up a poker face. “I shall make certain that our schedule allows time for such activities.”

“Make sure there’s plenty of time set aside,” Cons said quickly. “Who knows just how long and strenuous these sessions will be.”

“As you command, my Lord,” Quinn said blandly, nodding again and heading for the door.

Cons stared after him, fists clenched at his sides in frustration. Of all the attractive older officers in the galaxy to crush on, he had to find the one who liked math more than him. 

Maybe if Quinn arrived to their first session to find Cons artfully covered by printouts of the reports and nothing else, he’d change his mind...


End file.
